…
"When I was a first-year, I thought winning was the pinnacle, too. But once you're in your third year, and you see the things we do, let's just say that the games are a lot more lethal."
Maybe one day she'll realize that I'm letting her take the lead ahead of me so I can stare at her perfect ass, but - if I have any say, she'll never know. Brilliant or not. I shake the tingling fingers as they remember what it felt like to grab it and haul her against my hips. I've been ignoring the feelings for weeks and keep expecting them to disappear, but they're just sitting on my heart like a fucking anvil.
"Riders approach, get your head out of the clouds." Sgaeyl isn't pulling any punches lately, most of which I deserve.
One second later, Violet snaps to attention. Out of habit, I follow her lead. It probably saves my ass as I spot Commandant Panchek and Aetos' soft father as they descend. I lock my shields firmly in place remembering that I have no clue what Colonel Aetos' signet is. If his son's is memory reading, who the hell knows how far the bruised apple fell from that shitty tree.
Per usual, they ignore me, and Panchek keeps looking over his shoulder as if waiting for permission to walk through the archway at the bottom of the stairs.
"At ease. You're looking well, Violet. Nice flight lines," Aetos compliments, and I'd almost forgotten that Violence was born to the upper crust of Navarre. Of course she knows the Colonel. And of course he calls her Violet instead of Cadet Sorrengail. I assume he thinks of her as a daughter, especially since her own father was plucked from the picture. Violence doesn't need it, but I see his want to protect her in the brown eyes that sparkle in her presence. Fucking Dain has that look too.
"Do not think that your want to protect the Silver One is any less, you never stop looking as it is."
"It's hard enough without you needing to remind me," I growl toward my dragon, but she goes suspiciously silent.
She's right though. Dunne help me, I'm more like the Colonel and his wet-blanket of a son than I care to admit when it comes to wanting to keep the firework that is the youngest Sorrengail out of harms way. It may have started out because she'd bonded Tairn and became my liability, but it's become something else entirely, something I want to do because my heart is telling me that I need to do it, and it has nothing to do with our dragon's bond.
"Dain is doing well, too. He's my squad leader this year."
I try to school my features but can't help the 'ugh' that goes through my mind at the simple fact that 'Squad Leader' on the younger Aetos is nothing more than an empty damn title. He lost any respect under the designation by refusing to help Violence get better to survive. Each time I caught his pining look or read his intention at a distance to trick or force her into the Scribe's Quadrant, I had a fucking dagger made just for her.
"Mira asked about you while we were touring the Southern Wing last month. Don't worry, you'll get your letter privileges in second year, and then you can keep in touch more often. I'm sure you miss her."
Gods, I almost believe that he cares. Maybe he does? He definitely understands that Violence has been waiting for the day that she can write to her sister, and I note that the arrogant prick doesn't mention writing to the General. After throwing her youngest to the wolves, I can't imagine the brilliant ball of fury writing anything more than a 'fuck you, I told you I could do it' letter to her cold and calculated mother.
But…I saw fire - a flame of protective pride in General Sorrengail's eyes when I made my deal with her. What had she told me before slicing into my back one-hundred-and-seven times?
Sgaeyl answers as if I'd been talking to anyone but myself. "She said she has faith in her daughter to succeed. A glowing recommendation from the second highest-ranking General of the Navarrian forces, and one that the tiny Silver One probably won't live up to."
"I thought you said you were starting to like her."
"I said I was starting to see why you like her."
From the corner of my eye, Panchek continues to glance nervously up the staircase. Aetos and Sorrengail chat about her sister, and I feel the itching want to set my hand to the small of her back and push her up the stairs before their fucked up family-esque reunion eats into any more of our flight time. I have other shit to do today.
I don't miss the way that the Commandant and Aetos both straighten when the General comes around the corner, and I should have guessed who the lap dogs were waiting for. Panchek doesn't hop unless Lilith Sorrengail orders him to. His refusal to even re-enter the school where he's the fucking Commandant without her allowing it forces me to tamp down another eye roll at the weakness of Navarrian Leadership.
A twist in my stomach always comes the moment I see General Sorrengail. It's like a knife that she controls with her eyes that lances my guts and forces bile into my throat. Just the frosty nature of her brown eyes and the way she glares at me for a split of a second reminds me of the smell of burned flesh, sulfur, and the char of bone sitting on dragonfire-warmed stone.
I hate her all over again as if she's just done what is in the past. That probably won't ever change.
"Mom," the exhaled single word from Violence is like a punch in the stomach. If I can hear the hopeful lilt in her voice, I assume the General can as well.
"Silver One puts too much hope in the General. It's not the wisest of choices she should be wasting her time on, mother or not."
Agreed. "Says the one that doesn't like her."
The short amount of time her mother acknowledged my existence before swinging those piercing eyes onto her daughter makes me take a small step forward, almost touching her. I can't help it. The cold and calculated way the General appraises Violence from top to bottom is no different than if she was taking stock of any other cadet, her own blood be damned.
She sees the difference in her daughter from the last time she'd laid eyes on her, right? After Threshing, if she even looked at Violence more than once? But…since Parapet at least? Hell. The only thing I recognize are those hazel eyes - almost everything about her is completely different from last July.
Amari knows she's no longer a twig being blown by the wind. The muscle she's fought to build is on full display as her curves fill every inch of her flight leathers.
"I doubt her mother will notice that."
"That's…not what I meant." Probably. Maybe.
Nope. She visually critiques her daughter with all the familiarity and familial love of a military official studying a disappointing battle map. With no focus on me, the two stooges paying rapt attention to mother and daughter, I get a damn good look at the frigid woman and take stock in what I can glean. I won't drop my shields. I know to keep my signet locked down on school grounds when leadership is around.
"I hear you're having trouble wielding."
Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me? I can't help it, my eyes flicker down in just enough time to see the flash of pain cross Violet's face that she quickly hides, but she takes a step back in reflex as if she's been struck, almost into me where I stand just behind and to her side.
I resist the urge to lean in to let her know that I'm with her if she needs me.
"Why would she need you?"
"I have the best shields in my year." It's almost a defensive whimper, and I feel rage thud hard into my heart at the suddenly submissive sound of her usually clear voice.
Her pushback lacks all the vigor I expected from the woman I've nicknamed Violence. With one icy, off-hand statement, the General has reduced this brilliant, tough, and powerful woman into a fraction of herself, and I hate that I'd given that monster the benefit of the doubt when she'd said she had faith in her daughter.
My eyes flick back to the mother as she stares down at her youngest, and for the first time ever, I think of Violet as...
Small. The thought is like bitter acid and I hate that I've given it room in my mind.
"With a dragon like Tairn, I would certainly hope so." The eyebrow the General cocks is one of annoyance. Like me when I want to make a point.
"Doesn't feel so good, does it?" Sgaeyl grumble-chuffs.
"If not, all of that incredible, enviable power will have been…" She pauses as if for dramatic effect to let out a puff of steam, and I feel Violence stiffen. I recognize it, the slight but audible-to-me inhale she sucks through her beautiful pursed lips as she prepares for a death blow.
"Squandered."
The fury that fills my chest isn't just my own. Protective energy swims in across Sgaeyl's bond with me and settles in the relic on my back and the swirling lines that go up my arm to my neck.
"The General presumes much about my mate and his choice of rider."
Even Aetos and Panchek's eyes swivel away, but mine hold on the General's face, even if she doesn't acknowledge my presence. That's fine. I prefer that. I'll be happy to stand behind this brilliant, fucking, woman as she tears into her own mother with the sharp tongue and reckless courage I've fallen for. All I can do is dump every ounce of malice into my glare and…
"Yes, General."
The weak and near-strangled acceptance in Violet's voice is like a death blow she unknowingly spears into my heart. I almost drop my jaw in surprise and look down into the dulled hazel of her eyes.
Her mother continues to speak, and I see Violence wince at that fact.
"I may not approve of this whip of a woman, but the General is on my last nerve. One does not insult my mate and his rider without consequence. Perhaps I'll take it up with Aimsir."
Sgaeyl doesn't like bullies, and I can't think of a bigger one than General Lilith Sorrengail.
"You have been the topic of some conversation, though." There's some upward inflection to the woman's voice, but her face is still as hard as the stone that makes up the walls of her godsdamned War College. There isn't an ounce of respect, care, even love in those eyes for the daughter she sent into this place to die.
The woman who is thriving despite all odds.
I watch the General's glance shift to the silver-ended braid at the crown of Violence's head, and her resolve flinches. What was a blank expression turns to hate, and I can't push back the need for information. Quickly, I glance at Panchek, who is hanging on her every word waiting for a command. Switching to Aetos, the man is still staring at his boots as he toes a loose stone in circles.
I'm furious at myself for thinking of him as one of Violence's protectors - he's standing here like he's probably always done, allowing the youngest Sorrengail to be treated as a burden by her mother.
The General's eyes aren't on me either.
"Don't you dare." Sgaeyl's growl is menacing and chills even me to my bones, but I don't stop.
I drop my shields just enough, less than a second, to see if I can read the General's intentions. I have to know. Surprisingly, her shields are down, and I'm not sure what to make of that.
"I've told her to cut this fucking hair time and time again. It's a testament to my greatest weakness and she knows that."
Shock and anger flare in my stomach as I lock my shields back in place, and no one seems to have noticed. The two-toned hair of my enemy's daughter has been in my dreams far too often since I saw it at Parapet, and knowing that the General hates it so much makes me love it all the more. That I know the feeling of those blade-colored strands between my fingers…
I feel my dragon's growl. "Get a hold of yourself."
"We're all wondering what powers - if any - you're wielding from the golden dragon?"
That smile. That fucking cold, calculated smile is the same one she used on the stone dais, the same one she had before carving into my back, and the same one when asking me to protect the suddenly tamed ball of dragonfire at my side.
"No." Tairn's demand must flow through the bond that connects all four of us, because I stiffen at the same moment Violence does. Gods, his voice scares the shit out of me when he decides to bark it into my mind.
"Nothing yet," she answers, and unlike her dragon, I knew that would be the answer she'd give. She sounds a bit stronger, as if the change of subject to her dragons or even just the reminder that she bonded two gave her strength. I can only hope that Tairn is telling this brilliant woman why he chose her as his rider throughout this whole awkward conversation.
Amari knows I would but can't.
"Shouldn't," Sgaeyl again with another death blow. "You had hoped it would be the answer she would give."
"I like to think I know her well enough to know that she'd never give up one of her dragons."
"You would like to think you know her well enough for a lot of things."
I tamp down the warmth Sgaeyl pulls from me. "I'm not kidding. Every, cold, weather, assignment."
"We were actually hoping that you might ask your dragon to allow us to study her. For purely academic purposes, of course."
Well look who found something interesting other than his fucking boots? The Colonel has played his hand.
They want Andarna - for whatever reason.
"Imagine being in league with dragons for over six-hundred-years and never having more than cursory knowledge of a feathertail? Frustration would seek to be relieved when the daughter of your General bonds with one."
True. But, they don't know Violence very well if they think she'll give Andarna to them.
"They'd find themselves as charred bones on the ground if they tried. I protected her first."
Deftly and efficiently, as I expected, the youngest Sorrengail does what she does best: put everyone around her to shame with the vast knowledge locked in her mind. Godsdamn that sexy mind of hers. I note the catch in her voice as she talks about her father not completing his research before he died, and it prompts a question in my mind.
If Violet was so keen on becoming a scribe, and had worked with her father on his research, why didn't she continue it? Or at least convince Andarna to help her finish her father's work?
"A worthy question, for I too am now curious."
Fuck. Sgaeyl will be way more likely to pressure an answer out of Violence than me, that's for sure. Much as I don't like talking about my dad, she doesn't like talking about hers. We share that in common.
"I couldn't even tell you where his notes are."
"Too bad," the General forces another cold smile. "Glad to see you're alive, Cadet Sorrengail." I'm glad I hadn't chosen that exact moment to lower my shields and read the woman, because her eyes flash in warning to mine, and I hope she can see the anger I'm tossing her way.
Wouldn't want this death glare to go to waste.
She doesn't seem to notice or care.
"Even if the company you're forced to keep is more than questionable."
Me?! My company is questionable? Says Queen Frigid of Basgiath.
Startling me a bit, Violence speaks. But…it's not clear. Not through my ears. It's…in my fucking head, just like Sgaeyl.
"Shit. Shit. Shit. I can't step in front of Xaden and make him look weak. I can't even glance his way without telling my mother where my allegiance lies…without telling myself."
But the General's eyes are still on me, and I don't have time to ground on my hillside and figure out what the fuck just happened, let alone allow myself to comprehend what the hell she meant by allegience. Sliding into the indifferent persona I'm known for, I continue to throw daggers with my eyes.
"I always felt that we resolved any of those questions years ago." I'm taut as a bowstring, almost as much as Violence, and my voice is its usual ominous low threat. Aetos doesn't think I see his hand rest on his hip just about his sheathed sword, or the way both him and Panchek take a step away from their commanding officer - how fucking heroic.
"Hmm." The General dismisses me before turning back on her daughter, and I realize that I've been coming up short in the 'monotone look of indifference' department. "Do see if you can master some kind of signet, Cadet Sorrengail. You have a legacy to live up to."
"Tairn's, perhaps. Definitely not the General's." Sgaeyl still sounds pissed, and she's getting louder - so I know they must be close to the flight field. Which is where I desperately want to escape to - it's all I've wanted to do for the last awkward ten minutes.
"Yes, General."
There it is again. That meek, defeated sound that's just - not…her. It took Violence eight months to become the strong Cadet that she was when we walked through this tunnel, and in less than that number of minutes, her mother kicked her right back to before Parapet.
"Being smart or courageous doesn't change fear, and the Silver One still carries the same amount as when she was a trembling girl in the courtyard."
"Yes but she stood there and took it. Every glare, every snarl, every word. She's thrown daggers at my head. At Jack Fucking Barlowe. She's learned to fight back instead of just standing there and taking it. She had to in order to become stronger. I don't know who that was, but they aren't the Violence I know."
"That was the weakling daughter of the General supposed to lead the Scribes."
Sgayel put the emphasis in the right spot. Was.
Colonel Aetos says something, but I'm too busy arguing with my own dragon to hear what it is. I catch the sympathetic smile he gives her before the pair scampers off behind their master. Good fucking riddance.
They don't have a clue who Violence is - hell. Why would they? Violence is the brilliant fucking woman that's become the only rider in Navarrian history to bond two dragons. Something her damned mother wishes she could have been strong enough to do.
I feel like I can breathe again now that they're all gone and think she probably does too until I look down and see the fire in those more amber than blue hazel eyes. Without a word, she heads up the stairs toward the flight field taking them with hard steps. It's easy for me to catch up, one of my strides is worth two to three of hers.
By the time she gets to the top, her breaths are jagged and the tightness in her shoulders lock all the way down to the balled fists at her sides. There's the fiery woman I've known since Parapet.
"You didn't tell her about how you got out of the attack in your bedroom," I start, thinking a change of subject might be a good idea. "And I'm not talking about me showing up."
Her voice is just as taut as the rest of her as she answers. "I don't ever see her. And you told me not to tell anyone." Turning those eyes on me, I can see the anger there, but also the hurt, rejection, and longing that things had gone differently.
Today? Probably. This year? Absolutely. Her whole life? Maybe.
"Didn't realize it was quite like that between you," I can't help but say, and I hear Sgaeyl in my mind chastise me with a chuff that I know would blow hot sulfur steam against my face had she been standing in front of me.
"Oh, that's nothing." She tries to sound flippant, but every line of that perfect body shows otherwise. "She spent almost an entire year ignoring me when Dad died. Which was almost as wholesome as the years she spent barely tolerating my existence because I wasn't perfect like Brennan or a warrior like Mira."
My heart tumbles at the mention of her brother, whom I know is alive and well back in Aretia helping run my damn revolution. All while his sister is fighting for every inch she gains in this place.
She's too fucking easy to admire. I can't lie to myself that I'm still teetering at the edge of the cliff - I haven't been for weeks. I'm at the fucking bottom of the valley, a wrecked heap of…feelings.
"She doesn't know you very well, then."
Later, after flight tests and spending time observing, I know what she needs to stay on Tairn's massive back, and though it'll take time, I know she'll need it if she's going to be able to keep her seat. Hopping down and giving a pat to the blue scales, I notice how much lighter Violence is than before.
Flying relaxes her, yet another thing we have in common. Though, I can't tell anyone how my heart flew into my mouth each time she slipped from the seat and plummeted, and only when I realized that they have a fucking routine did it clue me in to how often it happens. She didn't even seem nervous - just went limp, held out her arms, and waited patiently for the massive claw to scoop and throw her back onto his spine.
Unacceptable. If she can't keep her seat, she's dead. Simple as that. I'll have to work with the crotchety old dragon for a solution.
Great. Can't wait for that.
We walk back to the citadel in silence, but before moving into the stairs, I grab her elbow and pull her close so that my words are only for her, though the wafted scent of her floral perfume is a bonus.
"About…earlier. Your mother doesn't get to decide who you are. You do. Don't forget that."
The shock on her face is mirrored by the shock that comes through my bond with my dragon.
My Daggertail is faster. "Stop. Getting. Mushy. This can only end badly."
Violence breaks my serious gaze and looks briefly down at my mouth before sweeping across my chest, and there are so many ways I can take that look, but won't.
"It's a good thing that I'm not…like her, even if she hates that about me." Her shoulder shrugs before she meets my eyes again. "I…didn't fall off the Parapet, I conquered the Gauntlet, I passed the test at Presentation, and I bonded two dragons at Threshing. Why do I care that she doesn't care?"
Shit. She's actually asking me.
"Are you proud of you?"
A wry grin tilts her lips and I want nothing more than to haul her back against me and claim that mouth with my own.
"Sometimes."
"Well, I know you. I'll be proud for both of us until you figure it out."
…